


Take it Back

by princess_horayne



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, M/M, Secret dating, Top!Niall, bottom!Zayn, lame angry sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_horayne/pseuds/princess_horayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Gay sex & cursing</p><p>Summary: Niall and Zayn have been friends for years, and most recently have started dating. Zayn works at Niall’s family store, and when Niall treats Zayn like shit one day, someone gets their panties in a bunch. (aka they fight and have lame angry sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take it Back

**Author's Note:**

> For Cassie, mainly. May :)

Ever since the sixth grade, Niall and Zayn have been inseparable.

If Niall was around, Zayn was lurking somewhere not too far off.

They were like Batman and Robin, as their mum’s often referred to them as. (Niall of course being Batman, and Zayn as the trusty sidekick Robin).

Even as they grew older, as they gained and lost friends, they stuck together. Even as their mutual group of friends began to lessen, they could count on each other. When Zayn’s family fell on hard times, Niall was there right behind Zayn the entire time.

Niall was more than fortunate in his life. He was a top polo player of his age, with nothing short of the best equipment and horses. (It helps when your daddy owns the best supply store within a three hour radius). He travelled all over the country to play, and last summer he even went to China to play a few tournaments.

So with his father’s hefty income thanks to the store, you could easily say Niall was spoiled. Like when he turned seventeen, and threw a fit because he had grown tired of the car he received for his sweet sixteen, and daddy went out and bought him a fully loaded, lifted truck (only for him to wreck three weeks later- but no worries, daddy paid for the repairs).

Not only did he luck out in his wealth, but he was a good looking boy. He could get anyone- and really, anything- he wanted. Natural brown hair, sun bleached out to be blond at the tips- always perfectly quiffed except when he was going to ride, or if he was wearing a snapback; bright blue eyes that would melt anyone’s heart. He knew he was hot- and maybe his arrogance was a bit overboard at times, but people liked him anyway.

Zayn on the other hand was the eldest of four, with a struggling, single mother. He didn’t even have his own car at nineteen, and he couldn’t afford to go to even the local college. He’d be forever grateful toward the Horan family when Niall’s dad gave him a job at their shop, obviously well paying, and six days a week with good hours. He could actually afford to go out with Niall and order real food (versus a side and water), and be dressed appropriately and not in borrowed clothes from his best friend. Each week he put a little money aside for himself, and gave the rest to his hard worker mother to assist with anything she needed. 

So despite having pretty opposite lives, they remained the best of friends, until one morning after a night of partying entirely too hard.

Zayn woke up completely naked, and hung over, none of which were all that surprising or unusual for a Saturday morning after a good night out. He took in the unfamiliar room, and the more he woke up, the more he realized it wasn’t all that unfamiliar. In fact, it was extremely familiar.

His best friend of eight year’s bed and room, if you want to get specific.

It wasn’t until he was rolled onto his back and sat up that the events of last night added up. Maybe it was his hung over best friend- still mumbling about this, that, and another in his sleep- also naked beside him. Or maybe the dead giveaway was the light throbbing in his rear.

And though it was uncomfortable, and really foreign, he found it to be somewhat enjoyable. That scared him more than the fact that he’d fucked his best friend- or rather, that his best friend had fucked him.

He fell back against the pillow, running his hand through his raven black hair. He glanced at Niall fast asleep, and he groaned as the previous night became clearer in his memory.

_“You like that? C’mon, tell me Zayn,” Niall growled, giving a quick thrust into Zayn. “Tell me how much you like my cock inside you.”_

_“Fuck Niall, just fuck me and stop teasing me,” Zayn pleaded._

_Niall shoved in deeper, hitting Zayn in all the right places, which as a result caused him to moan out loudly, and become a pathetic, writhing beggar._

_“Oh please, Ni, yes just like that. More, more, oh fuck, please!”_

Zayn rolled over and buried his face into the pillow as his cheeks heated up, groaning again because he’d fucking had sex with his best mate.

Niall shifted against the bed, yawning as he slowly opened his eyes, squinting and grunting at the sunlight pouring through his windows.

“Morning, Zayn,” He mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

When there was no reply from Zayn- he knew he was awake, he could tell by his breathing- he reached over and poked a finger into the other’s shoulder blade. Zayn groaned in response, and rolled over to face Niall. His eyes narrowed a bit as he took in his friend’s sleepy expression, and examined his mixture of bed-head and just-fucked hair.

Niall’s blue eyes narrowed in mock expression. “What is it?”

“Do you have any recollection of what went down last night?”

He hummed for a second- it was much too early in his hung over state to be thinking about this.

“We went to Harry’s for that party of his. Liam drove us home, as per usual, and then we… oh my god. Zayn. We fucked.”

Zayn gave a short nod, “Yup,” he said, lightly popping the p as he ran his hands through his sleep ridden sex hair, tugging at the ends is minor frustration.

They both laid in silence for a few minutes, letting it all sink in, and mainly because they were unsure of what to say. 

Suddenly, Niall turned to face Zayn, his blue eyes shining and a small smile on his face. “Well, if it makes it any better, ‘twas the best fuck I’ve had.”

Zayn shook his head, trying not to smile. “Hey Ni?”  
“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Zayn muttered, and smacked Niall across the face with a pillow.

A short, childish pillow fight ensued- well, more of them remaining laying down and lazily smacking each other in the face with the pillows, until Niall ended up (a bit awkwardly, one might add) straddling Zayn. One final blow to the other’s face, followed by light hearted laughter, and they were done.

He’d later say it was bit of alcohol remaining in his system that possessed him to do it, but they both knew otherwise. Niall lent down, eyes fluttering shut, and pressed his lips against Zayn’s for a quick second.

And that’s how it all started.

For months, every weekend they’d go out and get plastered, and then return to Niall’s house for some drunken sex they’d hardly remember in the morning. As time passed, though, both boy’s secretly began to drink less, just pretending like they did and that they were trashed as per usual. Their drunken hook ups became (secretly) sober, slightly meaningful sex to each.

And after four months of that bullshit, Zayn finally rolled over one morning and looked Niall straight in the eye.

“How much longer are we going to pretend like we’re drunk?”

Niall blushed madly, but smiled. “We don’t have to anymore.”

Another soft kiss was shared, and this time, it couldn’t be excused by the hangover.

~  
They might have thought they were being clever about it; being sneaky and secretive that they were actually dating one another. But their mum’s both knew better- just like how they knew about the weekend party excursions (coming home late and rowdy, waking up in the middle of the afternoon with headaches and maybe puking some), or how each mum could tell if her son had been the gift giver or the gift recipient the night prior. Neither ever said anything- they supposed their son’s were grown up (well, to a point) and that if they didn’t want to share their sexuality or the fact they were dating their best friend, it was okay.

Maybe it was because each mother had a feeling all along that her son would end up with his best friend, and both lady’s were okay with that. She just wished that he’d tell her, because he was her baby boy, and she wouldn’t love him any less if he happened to love another man (especially one she already considered her second son).

Luckily though, the boy’s had always shared a special bond, so nobody (nobody being their friends, Zayn’s siblings, Niall’s father, or anyone else that saw them together) thought much of it when they’d exchange certain longing, love filled looks; or when they went out with friends, how they always made a point to be next to each other, sitting a little closer than normal, or the touches that lingered a second too long.  
Both were seemingly happy with the arrangement- acting like straight, best friends in the company of others, and behind closed doors, they could hardly keep their hands off of each other.

~

Niall was always in and out of this father’s polo supply store, especially during the game season. Either to ‘buy’ stuff (because we all know he doesn’t actually pay a penny for anything) or to mooch it up with a big name player that frequented the shop. Sometimes he’d be alone, just hanging about; and if there was no-one to impress, he’d head to the back room or to the warehouse to bother his best friend/secret boyfriend while he worked.

And then there would be times that Niall would be in the shop, either with a polo friend buying stuff, or alone but schmoozing up to someone. Zayn would pass by without a single acknowledgement. At first he’d been a bit put off by it- but he knew it’d been the same since they were just friends. But Niall and Zayn had their silent understanding- Zayn was poor, he had no knowledge of the sport, and he was more or less so working for Niall.

And so, after a while, he let it roll off his chest, and he knew as soon as Niall’s friends would leave, he’d come into the back and talk to him. Or sometimes he’d send a text- ‘still hanging 2nite?’, ‘I’ll pick u up when ur finished?’, or even the occasional ‘ur ass looks grt in those pants ;)’.

So all in all, Zayn didn’t mind all too much.

Until one day, when Zayn was up on a ladder helping one of the sales girl put stuff up on a high shelf. Niall had been loafing around the store with his friend Louis, when he needed help. And who better to ask for help but his boyfriend?

“Hey, uh, Zayn? Can you get three more of these from the warehouse? There’s none out.” He asked, motioning to the black bucket in his friend’s arms.

“Yeah, just lemme finish helping her, m’kay?” He said, looking down for a brief a second.

“No. I need it now.”

It took everything Zayn had not to roll his eyes. Honestly, Niall could be such a stuck-up brat sometimes. He loved the kid, really, he did. But he couldn’t say ‘oh, could you please get it now? Lou is in a rush?’ or something polite. Nope, he had to demand it.

With a heavy sigh, Zayn climbed down from the ladder and went to the warehouse next door to gather three of those god damn buckets. And not because it was his best friend, not because he was his boyfriend; but because it was the store owner’s son, and at the moment, he just another worker, who if he denied his assistance, it could cost him his much needed and appreciated job.

“Here.” He said coldly, shoving the stack of buckets in Niall’s arms before silently stomping back up the ladder, shooting the girl an apologetic look as she handed him up the merchandise.

Once Niall and Louis were out of sight, the girl looked up at Zayn with a frown. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

He gave a half shrug. Typically, it didn’t. But when Niall had the nerve to treat him like a lowly worker, yeah, it hurt. A lot. But he wouldn’t let it show.

“Does what bother me?” Zayn asked, very nonchalantly.

The girl rolled his eyes, “How he’s your best mate, but he treats you like dirt when he’s with other friends and your working. I’ve seen him come back in just to talk to you.”

Zayn’s jaw dropped in the slightest bit, and he was glad he was up on the ladder, facial expression hidden from her. “’M use to it.” He simply nodded.

“You’re a terrible liar. Thanks for helping me, by the way,” she said, and with that, she bounced off to help a customer while he remained on the ladder, shoulders sagging in defeat.

Fifteen minutes later, Zayn stood out behind the building, cutting down cardboard boxes to be disposed of. Niall walked through the back door, hands stuck in jean pockets, and he smiled largely at the sight of his boyfriend. 

“Hey,” he said, as though the little exchange on the floor had never happened.

Zayn looked up for a split second before looking back down at the boxes, continuing on his task.

“What? You won’t even look at me?” Niall asked, tilting his head.

“Might slice a finger off.”

Niall rolled his eyes, “Do you need a ride home tonight?”

“Think I’ll just have mum come get me,” Zayn muttered, still not looking up from slicing the tape on the boxes.

Niall would have really liked to grab Zayn and pin him against the wall, pressing close to him and telling him just how much he meant to him, and to cut the crap attitude. But two things stopped him- one being that Zayn held a box cutter in his hand, and though it was probably a dull, pathetic blade, it was still a blade. And two, more importantly, was that anyone could walk through the back door or around the corner and see them- including his less than accepting father.

Zayn reached down to grab another box to cut, and Niall kicked it out of the way, his eyes narrowing in a way that only happened when he was angry. “Bullshit. She’s too busy with your sisters, I’ll take you home.”

He looked up, glaring, “Funny. Now you want to talk to me, and treat me like an actual human.

“Cut the shit, Malik,” Niall grumbled, looking a bit like he just got slapped across the face, “You know wh-”

 

“Beucase you’re too fucking shamed to be associated with a poor kid that works at your family’s store. I fucking get it, Horan,” he growled, reaching down to grab the kicked aside box and stabbed his box cutter into it.

“I’ll be back at five,” Niall hissed, and stalked off after that.

Five o’clock rolled around, and sure enough, just as Zayn was punching out his time card, he heard Niall’s truck pull into the parking lot. Silently, he went out the back door and to the truck, climbing in without a single acknowledgement to Niall. He buckled up as Niall reversed out of the space, and began to drive.

“You’re fucking impossible,” Niall mumbled, exiting the parking lot and turning the way to go to his house.

“Hey asshole, wrong way. Take me home.”

“No!” Niall snapped, turning the radio up to drown out any further protests from his boyfriend.

Zayn sighed and leant back against the seat, defeated. He knew better than to try to fight further, that he was already fighting a lost cause. But part of him wanted to egg Niall on more; getting him riled up. He knew what was coming to him upon arriving at Niall’s, and it made his rear end already begin to throb.

Minutes later, they were pulling into the Horan’s driveway, and Niall cut the engine, glaring over at Zayn. “My room. Now.”

Zayn glared right back at him, and made a point of slamming the door as he stomped up to the house. He brushed past the dogs that greeted him, noting that Niall’s mum wasn’t home (to which he was glad), and straight to his boyfriend’s bedroom as instructed.

“You’re such a stuck up prick!” Zayn shouted as Niall closed the door.

“You’re just a needy little twit!”

“I fucking can’t stand you sometimes, Niall!”

Niall took a step toward Zayn, grabbing him by the elbow, eyes burning through his skull. “Fucking saying that again.”

“I. Fucking. Can’t. Stand. You.” Zayn hissed, annunciating each word slowly and clearly.

Within a matter of seconds, he was pinned against the wall, one of Niall’s hands still on his arm, the other resting on his side. He pressed his hips against Zayn’s, faces mere inches from each other. 

“Fucking take it back.” Niall said, eyes narrow, his pale skin growing red in anger.

“No.”

“Take it back,” he repeated, stepping closer, their bodies completely flush against each other.

“Fuck off,” Zayn murmured, pressing his hands against Niall’s chest to try to push him away.

Niall stepped back, but pulled Zayn with him, walking a few steps before turning them around. He pushed the other back against the bed, quickly crawling over him to straddle his hips and pin his shoulders down.

“Fine. I’ll make you take it back,” he challenged.

All Zayn could do was gulp and nod. He did his best not to smirk- because face it, angry sex was good sex; and it didn’t happen very often. (The angry sex, that is. The sex was always good.)

When Niall pushed his lips roughly against Zayn’s, the boy almost forgot why were in a little tiff. Then he remembered as Niall tightened his grip against his shoulders- he had been treated by dirt by his so called best friend and boyfriend. It began to once again slip his mind as their lips began moving each other’s; their hips dipping down and bucking up, trying to find any friction to satisfy their needs. 

Niall ran his hand under Zayn’s shirt, running it over his fit abdomen. He slid his hand down and gathered the hem of his shirt in his hand, only parting their lips long enough to tug it up and over Zayn’s head. He threw the shirt to the ground, and reached back down to greedily kiss him again. Zayn helplessly whimpered beneath Niall, wrapping his arms around the blonde’s neck, yearning for more.

“Take it back yet?” Niall asked, and he just shook his head.

So Niall smirked, nodding because he was okay with that. He ran his hands down Zayn’s bare torso, stopping at his pants, and he began to unbuckle his belt. His fingers slightly fumbled as he undid the button, and pulled down the zipper. He heard Zayn kick off his shoes, and the boy began squirming as Niall pulled the pants half way down.

“You’re fucking hard already,” He mused as he slipped his hand into Zayn’s boxers, though he didn’t have much room to be talking as he felt his pants tighten around his bulge.

He closed his hand around Zayn’s length, causing the boy to gasp and writher under him. He smirked and started to move his hand up and down, slowly at first, and with each pump he moved faster. 

“God dammit Niall, just fuck me already!” Zayn cried out, pushing his hips up, pleading like his life depended on it.

Niall just chuckled and shook his head, continuing with a steady hand on Zayn’s dick. “No. this is to punish you. You know I love you, don’t go and get all pissy when I talk to you like the employee you are.”

Zayn simply nodded, trying to still his hips as Niall sped his hand up a little more. His thumb ran over the tip of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-cum down his length. His own dick was hard against his jeans, throbbing at the tight restraint.

He watched Zayn with lust filled eyes, waiting for the brown eyes to start rolling back in his skull. The first flicker of the chocolate irises disappearing, Niall pulled his hand out of Zayn’s boxers, and tugged them down, letting the dick lay red and heavy against his stomach. Niall sat up and pulled off his own shirt as he struggled out of his shoes, and then slipped from his jeans and boxers in one easy move. 

“On your hands and knees,” he instructed, reaching to the bedside table to pull lube and a condom from the drawer.

Zayn silently obeyed, turning over onto his stomach and pushing up onto his knees. He took a fistful of the quilt into his hands, clutching nervously at the material as Niall got back behind him. Niall coated his fingers with the lubrication, setting his dry hand against Zayn’s back as he ran his finger over his tight, puckered hole. One finger was pushed in, and Zayn hissed at the intrusion, but pushed back instinctively anyway.

Niall skillfully moved his finger in and out, knowing just what to do to drive him nuts, and went on twisting it slightly until Zayn was wiggling his bum, ready for a second finger. He pulled his one finger and pushed into two, curling them immediately, to which Zayn gasped out and closed his eyes, grasping the bedspread harder. Niall smirked and continued to move his fingers, in and out, turning them, spreading them apart to stretch and ready for his boyfriend.

He removed his two fingers and got ready to push in three, but Zayn reached behind him and grabbed the other’s wrist. “I’m ready, please,” He begged.

The blond nodded, wanting it to badly to tell Zayn off for pleading. He sat back for a second while he rolled the rubber onto his throbbing dick, coating it in lube before pushing back onto his knees. He lined the tip of his dick up with Zayn’s entrance, and slowly pushed in, both of them groaning at the tightness.

Niall paused a brief moment, before giving a sharp thrust in. Zayn cried out- half in ecstasy, half in pain. He wrapped a hand around his waist, his other against his lower back, steadying himself as he began to move in and out. He was slow at first, gradually speeding up with each thrust. Zayn tried to keep from pushing back against Niall and scooting forward with each thrust, but found himself subconsciously doing it anyway.

“What do you say, Malik? Am I still a prick that you can’t stand?” He asked, receding almost all the way out before giving a quick push in.

“Yes,” Zayn said, clenching around Niall’s erection.

“Fine,” Niall said, now thrusting in quick and roughly.

He knew that Zayn liked it rough anyway, that this was nothing really out of the ordinary. He wasn’t concerned about hurting him, and if he did, he knew Zayn would say something. Instead, he just moaned out, resisting from breaking down quite yet. Niall stilled for a second, and Zayn looked over his shoulder curiously. That’s when Niall started with short thrusts in, slowly pulling back, only to push hard back in, going deeper each time.

Zayn cried out, letting his head drop as his eyes closed. “Okay, I take it back,” He whimpered out.

“What do you take back?” Niall growled, going back to a more regulated pace of pushing in and out. 

“T-that I can’t stand you,” Zayn said, pushing back against Niall.

“And?”

“I-I’m sorry t-that I got mad over something s-stupid,” He stuttered out, tripping over his words.

Niall nodded at that, “I forgive you,” He said, glad that Zayn decided then to apologize, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last. He reached down to Zayn’s aching erection and took a hold of it, moving his hand on it in time with his thrusts.

“I’m s-so close Ni,” Zayn warned, and Niall sped up his movements.

Zayn clenched around him, moaning his name over and over again. His back hollowed out as he released into Niall’s hand, and a second later he was coming, too, moaning out a line of profanity. He continued on until both had labored breathing, and could hardly hold themselves up. Niall pulled out slowly, panting as he pulled the condom off and tied it up, tossing it in his garbage pail beside his bed.

Zayn let himself fall onto the bed, rolling onto his back to face up to Niall. He smiled up at Niall, “You’re pretty terrible at being mad.”

Niall shrugged, “Can’t help that I like you so much,” He said, leaning down to kiss him before he climbed off his bed to grab a towel from the ground to clean them up.

“Hey, I thought you said you loved me,” Zayn teased as Niall returned over him.

“Eh, only on Tuesdays,” He replied, throwing the towel to the side, and laying beside Zayn, “Don’t get sappy on me, you ass.”

Zayn put his hands up in surrender with a shrug. “But seriously. You’re a prick sometimes,” He said, resting his head against Niall’s shoulder.

“Yeah, and so are you,” Niall said, kissing the top of Zayn’s head.

Zayn nodded, because it was true. And maybe that’s why they’ve stuck together so long- despite their differences, because they were more similar than not.


End file.
